A.N.~ Sorry for not finishing like I said *wacks head against wall* I was inspired to do my more lighthearted (and shorter) fic Prove Yourself as well as the angst/romance VERY short fic the Sweetest Sin about the movie the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, throw in a week long vacation.... Anyways.... THE SHOW DOES GO ON!!!
A.N.2~ Also I need to brush up on my Elven history, so I might have a couple things wrong, like I'm not entirely sure the early Elves knew Melkor/Morgoth for who and what he was and I can't remember which name came first, Melkor or Morgoth so... Tell me if I have something wrong but don't be mean about it!
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR (dammit!) And am making no profit from this story (dammit!)
Dedication: I dedicate this to Bitchie Witchie because..... ehhhh..... BECAUSE I DO!!!!!
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PART TWO: THE RED DAWN
After many mock fights that had their parents laughing, Calenel and Ramruin slipped into their beds and fell asleep without another word. The next morning as usual everyone in the house was awake before Ramruin and out and about doing things. Dae-alda was carving a new table for their cottage while Aglarel cooked breakfast and Calenel went outside to tend the fields. Ramruin was always shaking his head at Calenel's 'unhealthy habit' of working so much, and every morning he'd wake up to see Calenel, fully dressed, heading out.
"Where are you going?" He'd mumble into his pillow groggily, even though he knew the answer.
"There is much work to be done." Calenel would smile, heading out to the fertile fields. That was always the answer, but still Ramruin asked, every morning. It comforted Ramruin to know that Calenel would always do that, every morning, that he would always be there to shoulder those heavy burdens without complaint. Ramruin knew he could never do those things.
As Calenel walked along the rows of herbs and vegetables he looked to the sky and at the red dawn offset by the silver mist writhing around the plants in wraithlike forms, sending a pleasant tingle down Calenel's spine as he inspected the cabbages with a smile. This smile, however, was short-lived, for forms more spectral and frightening began to appear around he and the other farmers. Calenel shook it off and went to look at the tomatoes.
He didn't notice the others. They all fell silently.
When they came for him, he fell silently too, but for the sickening squelch the tomato in his hand made, spraying ruby juice onto the emerald earth.
Ramruin did not awake to a bucket of cold water in his face that morning. Instead he awoke to screams of horror and the clang of blade upon blade singing with the twang of bowstrings and the whoosh of flying arrows. He threw himself out of bed, scrambling for the window and Culcarch at the screams of the neighbors.
"THE SKY! THE SKY IS RED!"
And indeed, when Ramruin looked outside it was a red dawn.
He took Culcarch bravely in hand and ran outside to meet the demonic mass with the others. He felt the insatiable bloodlust of Culcarch, but even its bloodlust was nothing when Ramruin realized that Calenel was out there without a weapon. Without thinking and without care for his own safety Ramruin plunged in, swinging his blade across up and down, cutting an imp in half at the waist, its companion neatly in half, and a nearby wolf in half down the spine. He threw himself further into the melee, looking for the larger and more humanoid demons.
One found him.
Or rather, its scimitar did.
Ramruin whirled in time, falling backwards on a bent knee with his other leg out straight and holding his own scimitar up in a desperate diagonal parry. The beast sneered and pressed closer, inching Culcarch towards Ramruin's throat. Pretending to be afraid, Ramruin slowly worked his other foot underneath him until he was in a crouch, and then he sprung forward, launching himself like an elven missile for the things face. Their foreheads collided, sending his assailant to the ground. He stabbed it quickly and turned to face the next one. It came in with a deceptive right slash that turned into a thrust; Ramruin turned the blade aside and went for the opening, but his opponent moved in first, swinging his sword down and trying to cut Ramruin in half diagonally. Ramruin skittered to the side and dove in, under the intended strike, burying his blade to the hilt in his opponent's chest.
With a wicked twist he withdrew it, flinging the body into the face of the oncoming enemies. As he went into his own dance, rough and crude as it seemed at times, Culcarch glowed more red then gold, a tribute to the sky above. The Elves seemed to be winning, and with victorious shouts they began to drive back the enemies when a sudden wind whipped by, carrying a deadly fog. It seemed to have a life of its own, heading for every orifice it could find on Ramruin and darting in. There was a dull, thudding pain mingled with stabs of white-hot agony in his head, and then there came an ebony cloak and senselessness.
~*~*~*~*~*~
That senseless oblivion continued until a horrified Aglarel shook her son awake and pushed him indoors. Ramruin hardly understood anything his mother and father said as they embraced him. He was numb with shock and confusion still, but it all fell away like so many garments when he heard the name Calenel floating innocently along through his ears.
"Where is he?" He croaked in a voice not his own.
"We could not find him." Dae-alda said softly, his hands running comforting circles over Aglarel's back as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Everyone who was in the fields this morning was not found, and those who were... they were not of the living." A dry sob slipped from Aglarel's lips and Dae-alda turned his attentions to her and away from his son, who unfeelingly went outside to find Culcarch lying in the dirt along with the debris of his shattered soul. He looked up to the sun, having melted from a red dawn to a red sunset with the turmoil of stark blue in-between, fast-fading.
All Ramruin could see were two eyes of gentle green, shot with gold.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
(A.N.~ Quick, somewhat funny note about this next section... I was swimming on my back underwater and I looked up and that inspired this. Also I copied part from another fic of mine that I will NEVER post here:-)
The light... How inviting and golden it was above him, amidst the soothing blue waters around him. He reached his hand up towards it, reaching to grasp the light in his fingers, to make it his own, but as he reached upwards for it, it seemed to fade, and as he stood up from the cooling waters how cold the world seemed. Still he reached for the light, trying violently to hold it. Perhaps if he hadn't been so intent on the light, he would've seen the water turning to green and grey, darkening into black. Perhaps he would've been ready and could've escaped, but he was so intent on the light.... Suddenly the sea of black blood swallowed him up and the light was gone, but darkness was all around him and it was equally as pleasing as the light...
Calenel gasped and threw himself out of the dream with vicious vehemence for the perversion it inflicted upon his love for nature, how it twisted the crystalline prism he viewed the wondrous world through and funneled light into dark, drawing him further down the path to blackness and despair. And as he wrenched himself from the dream, he did it with hatred for himself.
Because he was beginning to enjoy it.
But the time for dreaming was over and the time for torture had begun, and as that cold and frightening laugh signaled the beginning sounded mercilessly, Calenel screamed, he screamed with all he was worth, in defiance as much as pain.
Blackness...
~*~*~*~*~*~*
A month slipped by without anyone noticing, least of all Ramruin. Time flies when all you can do is lament and remember with bitterness, and train without purpose or heart. He was training at that moment, viciously attacking a thick tree stump at the back of the hamlet, chips of wood flying in his face as he hacked at it with abandon. Culcarch whined as it whistled through the air, as if in protest to the mundane practice it was being made to do. Ramruin answered by giving the tree stump one more almighty diagonal slash, then sheathing the sword and stalking away, silently suffering from anger and hopelessness. Once more the sun had been born amidst the scarlet hues of a red dawn, and still there had been no attack by Melkor nor word about the captives he had taken. Ramruin looked to the sky, not bothering to shade his eyes against the setting sun, for they were already stung with tears, and felt that though all was light around Bar-en-Annon, they all were in the dark.
Silently and unfeelingly Ramruin ate his dinner and bade his parents good-night, then slipped into bed and fell immediately asleep. When he was sleeping Ramruin had been finding a soothing solace for the past month, for in dreams Calenel was with him and the fields were tall and green and he'd wake up to know that Calenel would always, always be there to shoulder the heavy burdens of work without complaint and take care of the family no matter what. He was in the vale with his brother in his dream that night, and they were walking silently. Grey smoke was drifting through the vale, and so vivid was the dream Ramruin could actually smell it.
A fire! A fire in the vale!
Ramruin turned to warn his brother, but saw, with horror, that his brother was engulfed in flames like a phoenix dying. Calenel tipped his head to one side sadly, looking disappointed.
"You could not save me, brother." He whispered.
With a strangled, guttural cry Ramruin launched himself at Calenel, trying to wrench him from the flames and deny what his brother had said, but the flames swept him away, leaving nothing but ashes sifting through his fingers to fall upon the ground. Ramruin froze, tears stinging his eyes. Would Calenel leave him in his dreams to? He wanted to scream in agony and rage, but he stopped, for the ashes began to take form on the smoky wind, like a ghastly phoenix reincarnating. Ramruin staggered back, terrified as he saw the beast that approached him. The fire roared close behind him and thick black smoke engulfed he and the monster, making the ground impossible to see. Red roared all around them, tongues of flames leaping up everywhere and forcing Elf and monster together. The monster sneered and raised a fist, punching transfixed Ramruin dead on in the face, sending him whirling into the fire...
But the fire felt strangely cold...
Ramruin slammed into the cold floor of the cottage and sat up, sweating heavily. He heard the roar and crackle of flames all around him and smelt the smoke wafting through the window next to his bed. Throwing on his boots and girding on Culcarch hastily, he opened the window wide and smoke poured in. Coughing and sputtering, Ramruin struggled to look out the window and saw that Bar-en-Annon was no longer surrounded by a ring of living trees but a ring of living fire. Without cognitive or sane thought, Ramruin flung himself out the window and ran to find the other warriors, ignoring the flames all around him, the searing heat that permeated his skin and burnt his bones. He heard the rallying cries of the Elves as they chased after a group of shadows, oddly humanoid for the fiends that Melkor usually attacked with...
He ignored this and plunged into the midst of the warriors, barely sliding through the crashing gates as they burned down in red glory. His skin was badly singed but this he ignored too, for he and the others were gaining on the running shadows and they would pay, they would pay dearly for the hurt they had caused. The chase went on, leaping over the logs and streams of the vale, darting around trees and trying to get a clear shot with a bow while running after the shadows. It was like an obstacle course race to the death. Finally the shadows began to tire, or at least they gave the appearance to. They whirled without warning, shouting jeering calls and battle cries as they drew crudely made and wickedly twisted swords and charged in.
The first line of Elves had barely enough time to stop and draw their sword before they were skewered, but the second line was ready, and bloodthirsty. When Ramruin saw what they fought though, he gasped in horror and fought the urge to retch. They were mutilated, mutilated beyond recognition with brown or green skin; some even had mottled red skin. Some had eyes that were tightly squinted, wide others had large frog-like eyes of a piercing and putrid green. All held a feral light. Their hair was coarse and black, pulled back so far as so almost stretch the skin and show off the exaggeratedly pointed ears that were often lined with rows of earrings. Many had piercings all over them. Some were swarthy and bow-legged, while others stood straight, tall and menacing at a height equal to most Elves. A demonic energy flowed hatefully through them as they charged, and they were found to be a worthy opponent for the Elves, so that each found themselves having to fall not into wild melee, but deadly one-on-one combat.
Ramruin had frozen in terror, but he unfroze when he saw one of the hideous creatures on the other side of the small bowl where they had started to fight. He was taller then the rest, heavily muscled and scarred with a intricate tattoo across his face. His sword was less crude, more straight, but wickedly sharpened and double-edged. Chain-mail gauntlets with spikes along the sides covered his hands and lower arms, while plate armor protected the rest of his body. His boots were made of metal too, and they ended in dagger-like points. With a wretched snarl that made Ramruin shiver as it advanced. Across the fast growing maelstrom between them, a short forty feet that seemed like leagues and leagues of time and space swathed in the robes of time their eyes locked, and Ramruin's maple red eyes widened in alarm as he saw the eyes of the advancing creature.
They were brown. A sickening, muddy brown, but as its slow and determined walk brought it closer and closer to him, he saw flickers and flecks of gold and green, and those eyes were as filled with darkness and malice as Calenel's eyes had been full of light and love.
What had seemed like leagues suddenly evaporated into a few inches as the wretched thing raised its sword high above its head with a snarl that must've been its form of a laugh. At last Ramruin came to his senses at the screaming mental calls and raging bloodlust flooding Culcarch and spreading through his arm like a sizzling wild fire through dry brush. With a fierce and incongruous cry Ramruin flung himself onto his assailant, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Ramruin landed on top, again so close to those frightening eyes, but he had little time to wallow in his horror for the creature head butted him and then picked him up by the sides of his shirt, flinging him like a twig into a nearby tree. Ramruin was ready though, and as the creature gave a wild yell and charged in at full force he braced himself against the tree's roots and at the last second diverted the charge with a mighty heave of the curved Culcarch.
A cry of exultation was next to pass Ramruin's lips as his enemy smashed into a tree and staggered away, dazed. Ramruin didn't see the feint coming, for as he charged in himself (but with more caution) the creature was ready, forcing Culcarch backwards along Ramruin's arm, almost snapping his wrist and then snapping his blade around to try and slice the Elf in half. Ramruin knew that move though, a strange and poignant reminder of the many spars he shared with Calenel. On reflex he flipped his blade forward again at the sudden opening, cutting a superficial gash across the bottom of the creature's throat, drawing a thin line of scarlet and also cutting one of the leather straps that held up the breast plate it wore, causing it to hang limply, exposing the mottled red and black skin and muscular chest of his attacker.
After the slash went successfully through, Ramruin flipped his blade around and sent it into a dive, narrowly diverting the creature's blade and forcing him to jump back. He used the momentum of the jump to dash in again, scoring another glancing hit on his enemy's stomach, which caused it to growl in rage and swing its sword around towards the side once, but as Ramruin moved to step back and parry, he was yet again reminded of his playful duels with his older brother and instead moved the scimitar upwards at the last second to catch the falling blade of his enemy. The foul fiend had reversed the swing, sending it upwards and then flicking its wrist to bring it whistling down towards Ramruin's exposed shoulder. Ramruin smirked in triumph and spun around to break the lock their blades had been caught in, catching the suddenly lower blade of his enemy with the crossbar of his own blade and holding it high in a more favorable lock. With his free hand he pulled a knife from his waist and made to jab it into the exposed stomach of his attacker, but the creature dropped its hand and caught his with a smirk of its own.
It had anticipated that.
Before Ramruin could straighten and leap away, the spiked knee of his opponent came smashing up into his face. He managed to pull back a little, but as he staggered away he felt blood racing down his face in torrential streams of scarlet. More and more adrenaline flooded his body as he flew in on the demon, attacking almost faster than the beast could parry. Many glancing blows marked the foul devil and at last as it found a foothold and abruptly slowed Ramruin's rhythm, catching his sword high and then low. Ramruin raised a fist and slammed it into his opponent's face, stunning the beast. Without hesitation, he plunged his blade into its chest.
Culcarch sprouted out the other side of the creature's body like a macabre black flower in bloom. Ramruin followed up the strike with his body, finding himself so close to it that their noses almost touched. He found himself gazing into those eddied pools of mud some might call eyes; they had begun to clear in death's fast rising tide. Ramruin saw all too clearly spots of green shot with gold like dollops of sunshine amid the sickening brown... Angrily he shoved the disfigured creature off his blade with a sturdy kick, ignoring the hot gush of black blood that spurted onto his boots.
"Yrch!" He spat as it tumbled to the ground, christening the tortured souls the name that would bring anger and revulsion into the hearts of Elves everywhere for millennia to come: orc.
As Ramruin woefully looked around the desolate scene, he was glad to see that no more of his comrades had died after the initial rush. Also he was relieved to note that none of the orcs had been Calenel. Ramruin knew beyond all doubt that the vile creatures were the captured villagers (for their strength, dexterity and skill were far beyond the capabilities of any other fiend spawned by foul Melkor) having been tortured endlessly until they broke and submitted. But he also knew beyond all doubt that Calenel's soul could NEVER be broken, not like that.
But still, when he looked towards those haunting eyes, caught in metamorphosis between a muddy brown and clear green and gold, a chilling recognition sent shivers down his spine...
~*~*~*~*~*~
The endless black melted and shifted like molten granite around him, and through it rays of light fell. At last! Light! Through the endless ebon-hued shadows, unquenchable light! He reached up to touch it, not to own it, but to enjoy and embrace it, and it flooded his mind...
Peace...
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ramruin was afraid, terribly afraid at that moment. He turned and began to walk away, and that fear stopped him from seeing the two pools of clear cool green, shot with gold, untainted by mud and full of an unsaid 'thank you.'
Calenel approved of his fate.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
He walked home in silence, Culcarch sheathed at his hip. No feelings came from the relatively sentient blade, no hum of life vibrated through its gracefully curving blade, still warm and sticky with black blood. Even as he unconsciously rested his hand against the hilt, no rush of bloodlust, no burst of adrenaline set them both aquiver, for both were hollow and unfeeling. Through the still-smouldering wall of Bar-en-Annon he walked, not looking at the carnage around him, his eyes trained on the small cottage in front of him. He walked in and saw that a portion of the roof had been burnt away and a red-tinted light was dripping lazily onto the spot where his mother and father stood.
"Ramruin!" Aglarel sobbed, approaching her son and sobbing at the grievous slashes on his face; one eyes had swollen shut and was never to open again. He bent and kissed his heartbroken mother, then embraced his father, but he did not reply. Ramruin had just died on that battlefield, he had left the shattered remnants of his soul to drown in two half-changed eyes until the churning seas rose up and swallowed the world. Even though he did not believe that the orc he had killed out there within the ethereal domain of the vale was Calenel, he knew that his beloved brother was not coming back.
So, he went to the wall and hung Culcarch in its rightful place. Its rage, and his, had been sated in one bloody battle. Then he headed for the door again, still saying nothing.
"Ramruin? Where are you going? Ramruin?" The words of Dae-alda fell hollowly and distantly on his ears, and still he walked out into the sunlight. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, and then he walked out towards the barren fields.
There was much work to be done.
~ Fin~
A.N.~ JSYK, the reason the orcs in the battle were so tough is they are the original Elves, still retaining their battle skills and therefore equal to the good Elves... Anyways, read and review!
A.N.2~ Also I need to brush up on my Elven history, so I might have a couple things wrong, like I'm not entirely sure the early Elves knew Melkor/Morgoth for who and what he was and I can't remember which name came first, Melkor or Morgoth so... Tell me if I have something wrong but don't be mean about it!
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR (dammit!) And am making no profit from this story (dammit!)
Dedication: I dedicate this to Bitchie Witchie because..... ehhhh..... BECAUSE I DO!!!!!
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PART TWO: THE RED DAWN
After many mock fights that had their parents laughing, Calenel and Ramruin slipped into their beds and fell asleep without another word. The next morning as usual everyone in the house was awake before Ramruin and out and about doing things. Dae-alda was carving a new table for their cottage while Aglarel cooked breakfast and Calenel went outside to tend the fields. Ramruin was always shaking his head at Calenel's 'unhealthy habit' of working so much, and every morning he'd wake up to see Calenel, fully dressed, heading out.
"Where are you going?" He'd mumble into his pillow groggily, even though he knew the answer.
"There is much work to be done." Calenel would smile, heading out to the fertile fields. That was always the answer, but still Ramruin asked, every morning. It comforted Ramruin to know that Calenel would always do that, every morning, that he would always be there to shoulder those heavy burdens without complaint. Ramruin knew he could never do those things.
As Calenel walked along the rows of herbs and vegetables he looked to the sky and at the red dawn offset by the silver mist writhing around the plants in wraithlike forms, sending a pleasant tingle down Calenel's spine as he inspected the cabbages with a smile. This smile, however, was short-lived, for forms more spectral and frightening began to appear around he and the other farmers. Calenel shook it off and went to look at the tomatoes.
He didn't notice the others. They all fell silently.
When they came for him, he fell silently too, but for the sickening squelch the tomato in his hand made, spraying ruby juice onto the emerald earth.
Ramruin did not awake to a bucket of cold water in his face that morning. Instead he awoke to screams of horror and the clang of blade upon blade singing with the twang of bowstrings and the whoosh of flying arrows. He threw himself out of bed, scrambling for the window and Culcarch at the screams of the neighbors.
"THE SKY! THE SKY IS RED!"
And indeed, when Ramruin looked outside it was a red dawn.
He took Culcarch bravely in hand and ran outside to meet the demonic mass with the others. He felt the insatiable bloodlust of Culcarch, but even its bloodlust was nothing when Ramruin realized that Calenel was out there without a weapon. Without thinking and without care for his own safety Ramruin plunged in, swinging his blade across up and down, cutting an imp in half at the waist, its companion neatly in half, and a nearby wolf in half down the spine. He threw himself further into the melee, looking for the larger and more humanoid demons.
One found him.
Or rather, its scimitar did.
Ramruin whirled in time, falling backwards on a bent knee with his other leg out straight and holding his own scimitar up in a desperate diagonal parry. The beast sneered and pressed closer, inching Culcarch towards Ramruin's throat. Pretending to be afraid, Ramruin slowly worked his other foot underneath him until he was in a crouch, and then he sprung forward, launching himself like an elven missile for the things face. Their foreheads collided, sending his assailant to the ground. He stabbed it quickly and turned to face the next one. It came in with a deceptive right slash that turned into a thrust; Ramruin turned the blade aside and went for the opening, but his opponent moved in first, swinging his sword down and trying to cut Ramruin in half diagonally. Ramruin skittered to the side and dove in, under the intended strike, burying his blade to the hilt in his opponent's chest.
With a wicked twist he withdrew it, flinging the body into the face of the oncoming enemies. As he went into his own dance, rough and crude as it seemed at times, Culcarch glowed more red then gold, a tribute to the sky above. The Elves seemed to be winning, and with victorious shouts they began to drive back the enemies when a sudden wind whipped by, carrying a deadly fog. It seemed to have a life of its own, heading for every orifice it could find on Ramruin and darting in. There was a dull, thudding pain mingled with stabs of white-hot agony in his head, and then there came an ebony cloak and senselessness.
~*~*~*~*~*~
That senseless oblivion continued until a horrified Aglarel shook her son awake and pushed him indoors. Ramruin hardly understood anything his mother and father said as they embraced him. He was numb with shock and confusion still, but it all fell away like so many garments when he heard the name Calenel floating innocently along through his ears.
"Where is he?" He croaked in a voice not his own.
"We could not find him." Dae-alda said softly, his hands running comforting circles over Aglarel's back as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Everyone who was in the fields this morning was not found, and those who were... they were not of the living." A dry sob slipped from Aglarel's lips and Dae-alda turned his attentions to her and away from his son, who unfeelingly went outside to find Culcarch lying in the dirt along with the debris of his shattered soul. He looked up to the sun, having melted from a red dawn to a red sunset with the turmoil of stark blue in-between, fast-fading.
All Ramruin could see were two eyes of gentle green, shot with gold.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
(A.N.~ Quick, somewhat funny note about this next section... I was swimming on my back underwater and I looked up and that inspired this. Also I copied part from another fic of mine that I will NEVER post here:-)
The light... How inviting and golden it was above him, amidst the soothing blue waters around him. He reached his hand up towards it, reaching to grasp the light in his fingers, to make it his own, but as he reached upwards for it, it seemed to fade, and as he stood up from the cooling waters how cold the world seemed. Still he reached for the light, trying violently to hold it. Perhaps if he hadn't been so intent on the light, he would've seen the water turning to green and grey, darkening into black. Perhaps he would've been ready and could've escaped, but he was so intent on the light.... Suddenly the sea of black blood swallowed him up and the light was gone, but darkness was all around him and it was equally as pleasing as the light...
Calenel gasped and threw himself out of the dream with vicious vehemence for the perversion it inflicted upon his love for nature, how it twisted the crystalline prism he viewed the wondrous world through and funneled light into dark, drawing him further down the path to blackness and despair. And as he wrenched himself from the dream, he did it with hatred for himself.
Because he was beginning to enjoy it.
But the time for dreaming was over and the time for torture had begun, and as that cold and frightening laugh signaled the beginning sounded mercilessly, Calenel screamed, he screamed with all he was worth, in defiance as much as pain.
Blackness...
~*~*~*~*~*~*
A month slipped by without anyone noticing, least of all Ramruin. Time flies when all you can do is lament and remember with bitterness, and train without purpose or heart. He was training at that moment, viciously attacking a thick tree stump at the back of the hamlet, chips of wood flying in his face as he hacked at it with abandon. Culcarch whined as it whistled through the air, as if in protest to the mundane practice it was being made to do. Ramruin answered by giving the tree stump one more almighty diagonal slash, then sheathing the sword and stalking away, silently suffering from anger and hopelessness. Once more the sun had been born amidst the scarlet hues of a red dawn, and still there had been no attack by Melkor nor word about the captives he had taken. Ramruin looked to the sky, not bothering to shade his eyes against the setting sun, for they were already stung with tears, and felt that though all was light around Bar-en-Annon, they all were in the dark.
Silently and unfeelingly Ramruin ate his dinner and bade his parents good-night, then slipped into bed and fell immediately asleep. When he was sleeping Ramruin had been finding a soothing solace for the past month, for in dreams Calenel was with him and the fields were tall and green and he'd wake up to know that Calenel would always, always be there to shoulder the heavy burdens of work without complaint and take care of the family no matter what. He was in the vale with his brother in his dream that night, and they were walking silently. Grey smoke was drifting through the vale, and so vivid was the dream Ramruin could actually smell it.
A fire! A fire in the vale!
Ramruin turned to warn his brother, but saw, with horror, that his brother was engulfed in flames like a phoenix dying. Calenel tipped his head to one side sadly, looking disappointed.
"You could not save me, brother." He whispered.
With a strangled, guttural cry Ramruin launched himself at Calenel, trying to wrench him from the flames and deny what his brother had said, but the flames swept him away, leaving nothing but ashes sifting through his fingers to fall upon the ground. Ramruin froze, tears stinging his eyes. Would Calenel leave him in his dreams to? He wanted to scream in agony and rage, but he stopped, for the ashes began to take form on the smoky wind, like a ghastly phoenix reincarnating. Ramruin staggered back, terrified as he saw the beast that approached him. The fire roared close behind him and thick black smoke engulfed he and the monster, making the ground impossible to see. Red roared all around them, tongues of flames leaping up everywhere and forcing Elf and monster together. The monster sneered and raised a fist, punching transfixed Ramruin dead on in the face, sending him whirling into the fire...
But the fire felt strangely cold...
Ramruin slammed into the cold floor of the cottage and sat up, sweating heavily. He heard the roar and crackle of flames all around him and smelt the smoke wafting through the window next to his bed. Throwing on his boots and girding on Culcarch hastily, he opened the window wide and smoke poured in. Coughing and sputtering, Ramruin struggled to look out the window and saw that Bar-en-Annon was no longer surrounded by a ring of living trees but a ring of living fire. Without cognitive or sane thought, Ramruin flung himself out the window and ran to find the other warriors, ignoring the flames all around him, the searing heat that permeated his skin and burnt his bones. He heard the rallying cries of the Elves as they chased after a group of shadows, oddly humanoid for the fiends that Melkor usually attacked with...
He ignored this and plunged into the midst of the warriors, barely sliding through the crashing gates as they burned down in red glory. His skin was badly singed but this he ignored too, for he and the others were gaining on the running shadows and they would pay, they would pay dearly for the hurt they had caused. The chase went on, leaping over the logs and streams of the vale, darting around trees and trying to get a clear shot with a bow while running after the shadows. It was like an obstacle course race to the death. Finally the shadows began to tire, or at least they gave the appearance to. They whirled without warning, shouting jeering calls and battle cries as they drew crudely made and wickedly twisted swords and charged in.
The first line of Elves had barely enough time to stop and draw their sword before they were skewered, but the second line was ready, and bloodthirsty. When Ramruin saw what they fought though, he gasped in horror and fought the urge to retch. They were mutilated, mutilated beyond recognition with brown or green skin; some even had mottled red skin. Some had eyes that were tightly squinted, wide others had large frog-like eyes of a piercing and putrid green. All held a feral light. Their hair was coarse and black, pulled back so far as so almost stretch the skin and show off the exaggeratedly pointed ears that were often lined with rows of earrings. Many had piercings all over them. Some were swarthy and bow-legged, while others stood straight, tall and menacing at a height equal to most Elves. A demonic energy flowed hatefully through them as they charged, and they were found to be a worthy opponent for the Elves, so that each found themselves having to fall not into wild melee, but deadly one-on-one combat.
Ramruin had frozen in terror, but he unfroze when he saw one of the hideous creatures on the other side of the small bowl where they had started to fight. He was taller then the rest, heavily muscled and scarred with a intricate tattoo across his face. His sword was less crude, more straight, but wickedly sharpened and double-edged. Chain-mail gauntlets with spikes along the sides covered his hands and lower arms, while plate armor protected the rest of his body. His boots were made of metal too, and they ended in dagger-like points. With a wretched snarl that made Ramruin shiver as it advanced. Across the fast growing maelstrom between them, a short forty feet that seemed like leagues and leagues of time and space swathed in the robes of time their eyes locked, and Ramruin's maple red eyes widened in alarm as he saw the eyes of the advancing creature.
They were brown. A sickening, muddy brown, but as its slow and determined walk brought it closer and closer to him, he saw flickers and flecks of gold and green, and those eyes were as filled with darkness and malice as Calenel's eyes had been full of light and love.
What had seemed like leagues suddenly evaporated into a few inches as the wretched thing raised its sword high above its head with a snarl that must've been its form of a laugh. At last Ramruin came to his senses at the screaming mental calls and raging bloodlust flooding Culcarch and spreading through his arm like a sizzling wild fire through dry brush. With a fierce and incongruous cry Ramruin flung himself onto his assailant, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Ramruin landed on top, again so close to those frightening eyes, but he had little time to wallow in his horror for the creature head butted him and then picked him up by the sides of his shirt, flinging him like a twig into a nearby tree. Ramruin was ready though, and as the creature gave a wild yell and charged in at full force he braced himself against the tree's roots and at the last second diverted the charge with a mighty heave of the curved Culcarch.
A cry of exultation was next to pass Ramruin's lips as his enemy smashed into a tree and staggered away, dazed. Ramruin didn't see the feint coming, for as he charged in himself (but with more caution) the creature was ready, forcing Culcarch backwards along Ramruin's arm, almost snapping his wrist and then snapping his blade around to try and slice the Elf in half. Ramruin knew that move though, a strange and poignant reminder of the many spars he shared with Calenel. On reflex he flipped his blade forward again at the sudden opening, cutting a superficial gash across the bottom of the creature's throat, drawing a thin line of scarlet and also cutting one of the leather straps that held up the breast plate it wore, causing it to hang limply, exposing the mottled red and black skin and muscular chest of his attacker.
After the slash went successfully through, Ramruin flipped his blade around and sent it into a dive, narrowly diverting the creature's blade and forcing him to jump back. He used the momentum of the jump to dash in again, scoring another glancing hit on his enemy's stomach, which caused it to growl in rage and swing its sword around towards the side once, but as Ramruin moved to step back and parry, he was yet again reminded of his playful duels with his older brother and instead moved the scimitar upwards at the last second to catch the falling blade of his enemy. The foul fiend had reversed the swing, sending it upwards and then flicking its wrist to bring it whistling down towards Ramruin's exposed shoulder. Ramruin smirked in triumph and spun around to break the lock their blades had been caught in, catching the suddenly lower blade of his enemy with the crossbar of his own blade and holding it high in a more favorable lock. With his free hand he pulled a knife from his waist and made to jab it into the exposed stomach of his attacker, but the creature dropped its hand and caught his with a smirk of its own.
It had anticipated that.
Before Ramruin could straighten and leap away, the spiked knee of his opponent came smashing up into his face. He managed to pull back a little, but as he staggered away he felt blood racing down his face in torrential streams of scarlet. More and more adrenaline flooded his body as he flew in on the demon, attacking almost faster than the beast could parry. Many glancing blows marked the foul devil and at last as it found a foothold and abruptly slowed Ramruin's rhythm, catching his sword high and then low. Ramruin raised a fist and slammed it into his opponent's face, stunning the beast. Without hesitation, he plunged his blade into its chest.
Culcarch sprouted out the other side of the creature's body like a macabre black flower in bloom. Ramruin followed up the strike with his body, finding himself so close to it that their noses almost touched. He found himself gazing into those eddied pools of mud some might call eyes; they had begun to clear in death's fast rising tide. Ramruin saw all too clearly spots of green shot with gold like dollops of sunshine amid the sickening brown... Angrily he shoved the disfigured creature off his blade with a sturdy kick, ignoring the hot gush of black blood that spurted onto his boots.
"Yrch!" He spat as it tumbled to the ground, christening the tortured souls the name that would bring anger and revulsion into the hearts of Elves everywhere for millennia to come: orc.
As Ramruin woefully looked around the desolate scene, he was glad to see that no more of his comrades had died after the initial rush. Also he was relieved to note that none of the orcs had been Calenel. Ramruin knew beyond all doubt that the vile creatures were the captured villagers (for their strength, dexterity and skill were far beyond the capabilities of any other fiend spawned by foul Melkor) having been tortured endlessly until they broke and submitted. But he also knew beyond all doubt that Calenel's soul could NEVER be broken, not like that.
But still, when he looked towards those haunting eyes, caught in metamorphosis between a muddy brown and clear green and gold, a chilling recognition sent shivers down his spine...
~*~*~*~*~*~
The endless black melted and shifted like molten granite around him, and through it rays of light fell. At last! Light! Through the endless ebon-hued shadows, unquenchable light! He reached up to touch it, not to own it, but to enjoy and embrace it, and it flooded his mind...
Peace...
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ramruin was afraid, terribly afraid at that moment. He turned and began to walk away, and that fear stopped him from seeing the two pools of clear cool green, shot with gold, untainted by mud and full of an unsaid 'thank you.'
Calenel approved of his fate.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
He walked home in silence, Culcarch sheathed at his hip. No feelings came from the relatively sentient blade, no hum of life vibrated through its gracefully curving blade, still warm and sticky with black blood. Even as he unconsciously rested his hand against the hilt, no rush of bloodlust, no burst of adrenaline set them both aquiver, for both were hollow and unfeeling. Through the still-smouldering wall of Bar-en-Annon he walked, not looking at the carnage around him, his eyes trained on the small cottage in front of him. He walked in and saw that a portion of the roof had been burnt away and a red-tinted light was dripping lazily onto the spot where his mother and father stood.
"Ramruin!" Aglarel sobbed, approaching her son and sobbing at the grievous slashes on his face; one eyes had swollen shut and was never to open again. He bent and kissed his heartbroken mother, then embraced his father, but he did not reply. Ramruin had just died on that battlefield, he had left the shattered remnants of his soul to drown in two half-changed eyes until the churning seas rose up and swallowed the world. Even though he did not believe that the orc he had killed out there within the ethereal domain of the vale was Calenel, he knew that his beloved brother was not coming back.
So, he went to the wall and hung Culcarch in its rightful place. Its rage, and his, had been sated in one bloody battle. Then he headed for the door again, still saying nothing.
"Ramruin? Where are you going? Ramruin?" The words of Dae-alda fell hollowly and distantly on his ears, and still he walked out into the sunlight. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, and then he walked out towards the barren fields.
There was much work to be done.
~ Fin~
A.N.~ JSYK, the reason the orcs in the battle were so tough is they are the original Elves, still retaining their battle skills and therefore equal to the good Elves... Anyways, read and review!